


Scutum

by Ilovehighhats



Series: Constellations [3]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Common Cold, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovehighhats/pseuds/Ilovehighhats
Summary: Or unexpected reactions of a troubled heart.In which nothing is as it seems at first.





	1. The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Although this chapter picks the story up just when we left it in “Scientist”, the following won’t necessarily be a linear chronological continuation. Think of it as a journey through space and time on a ship of imagination. :D There will be some stuff from the future and some from the past, intertwined but not really rigidly connected.

Helena’s eyes never left his, staring in wonder, still not really believing he was here.

“We haven’t got a chance at proper introduction,” he smiled down at her, a boyish, honest grin. “Anthony Dorrance. Astrophysicist.”

Her complexion turned an interesting shade of greyish green. Bane’s smile faltered as he observed changing emotions on her face; irises steeled in an expression he remembered all too well from their last conversation.

“You fucker.”

This wasn’t what he had planned. His hands flew to her arms, keeping her close when he saw the slightest indication she might move away.

“Helena…”

“You stuck up, bloody megalomaniac. Do you have any idea... No of course you don’t.” Her lips thinned. “You talked with me through all those years and never mentioned you’re… you?”

“What do you want me to say? Would you expect me to write: Hi, It's Bane, don't tell CIA my secret identity. I miss you, so let's not be mad at each other. You said some things, I said some things. I broke your leg, you killed our child. No hard feelings. Let's go back to the way things were when you were my prisoner?”

She gave him a withering glare at first, but in the end couldn’t hold in a little laugh at his outrageous words.

“You always were utterly ridiculous.”

The way she said it made it clear she wouldn’t dismiss the notion he’d say it all as entirely impossible. She fell limply forward, rested her forehead on his clavicle, inhaled deeply.

Bane buried his nose in hair at the top of her head. Almonds. Sweet smell mixed with something warm and flowery, finally real and not imagined.

“I couldn’t tell you. I should keep away from you, but I couldn’t bear it. So I arranged for you to work for me. And we had to communicate then. And I could steal bits of information from you. Get to know how were you holding up. Were you happy? What did you need to be satisfied?”

“All I ever wanted was a peaceful life,” she murmured, snuggling closer. “And I lost that the moment I met you.” She looked up at him, earnestly. “And it was worth every minute being together.”

He swallowed over a hitch in his throat.

“I want you to get away with me, soon.” Another misstep, he saw it even before he finished the sentence. Sighing deeply he stroked her back. “But let’s not spoil today with talk of the future. Sit with me.”

“We should talk about future. And past. And what does it mean, that you're here now,” she argued.

Bane nodded, a short curt movement of his head.

“Take a seat please.”

She circled him, careful, considering.

“To talk?”

Signature curt nod put her at ease, but not entirely.

“How do you want to do this?” Bane asked. Best to be done with questions swiftly.

“Explain from the beginning. How did you become the man you are?”

“You understand it will take a good while.”

She marvelled at range of emotions clearly visible on his face. Irritation, showing in tensing of his jaw. Delicately flaring nostrils in anger over her persistence. Obviously, he didn't want to hide from her, which in itself was a big theatrical gesture. Probably calculated. Still, she liked it. Appreciated the thought.

Before Helena could answer, her stomach emitted a growl worthy of a prowling tiger.

“I have time,“ she said quickly.

Lopsided grin made her heart melt. How many of those had she missed back at the monastery? Over the years apart?

“Hungry?”

“Rather peckish, yes,” she admitted sheepishly. “I have some soup back at my place, we could go there?”

“No need to relocate, I am perfectly prepared to provide for my guest. If you please,” he said, gesturing towards open kitchen behind them.

Helena sighed slightly and obediently shuffled to a barstool overlooking working station.

“What do you have? And don't think I'm taking you off the hook, you can still speak while working.“

“Indeed, “ he murmured, the sound muffled slightly by refrigerator door between them.

“Indulge me and tell what did Americans relay to you about my beginnings.“

“Later.”

“Humour me.”

“Perhaps later,” she said, watching his hands and stressing the first word. If she looked up her resolve would crumble. “You start, and then we’ll straighten out any doubts and fill up blanks later.”

Bane's hands stilled for two seconds over vegetables. “As you wish. I will give you shortened version, and then elaborate if you find yourself curious about any details. Is that acceptable?”

“Perfectly, yes.”

“Before that, a drink?” he asked, turning without waiting for a reply.

“You're stalling,” she noted dully. “Why?”

He brought out two bottles of beer, handed one to Helena after opening it with his thumb.

She stared for a second, astonished, and then a slow leer creeped on her lips.

“Neat party trick.”

He winked over the bottle at her, as he took a healthy swig.

“Liquid courage,” he admitted.

Helena only arched one brow at that. As if he ever needed that.

Bane went back to chopping.

“I was born exactly fifty one years ago, in part of the world that can only be described as backward and forgotten. My father was a terrorist, mother also, although she would probably use term guerrilla fighter. None of that mattered anyway. She had delivered me in prison, which she was an inmate at. I was to serve my father's sentence, since he was resourceful enough to escape the country before being apprehended.“

His face was blank, as if he recited a passage from a book.

“First five years of my life are a mystery even to me. Sometime then my mother died. I don't really remember her. I was crawling through corners and shadows, until one day someone noticed me, took care of me. But the prison is no place for a child. I killed a man for the first time when I was six.“

Slight smile stretched his mouth on one side, a memory bringing back complicated feelings, not all bad.

“Life in the prison, we called it the Pit, was the only thing I knew until I got myself a teacher. Some priest, imprisoned for god knows what. Pathetic man. I was a teenager by then, and I showed him the ropes. He taught me to read in exchange.“

“I read everything in sight. Every little scrap of junk I had was traded for books. I learned about history and fantastic world of manners and kindness, so foreign to me. The priest noticed my hunger for knowledge, and as I grew he used it to procure more favours from me. He showed me direction in which to study, told me which titles, authors to seek.“

“Then, when I was about sixteen, they lowered another pregnant woman in the pit. Another child was to suffer through its father's sentence. Naturally, I was curious. There were women between us, but the new one was different. She was delicate, proud in a way no one else I saw was. And calm. I couldn't understand how she was so peaceful. Serene.“

Helena observed how his body transformed, moving in softer more careful way, with gentleness she rarely glimpsed before. Now she knew who inspired that in his heart.

“She had knowledge no one else could have. We became friends, and when she finally delivered the baby I vowed to protect the little girl with my life. Her name was Talia. You might know her as Miranda Tate.”

As could be expected, the scribe gasped in surprise. Everyone on Earth knew name of Gotham’s benefactor turned villain.

“When she was four there was an accident. A man who was taking care of her mother, our medic, forgot to bolt the cell they occupied. Left them vulnerable.“ Bane fell silent, processing anew the rage he felt, the horror and despair. “You understand, a woman of this finery at the fingertips of all those people… We were all animals, but some more than others,” his voice trailed, jaw set in an uneasy, angry grimace. “She died soon after.”

“I took care of Talia. As she grew, I taught her everything I knew. Prepared her to escape the Pit. And she did. She did so beautifully, went without any hesitation or regrets weighing her down, like I never could. I made her run and stayed behind myself making sure no one would touch her. On that day I got most of my scars and the pain that later… Well, we’ll come to that. Eat.”

Helena straightened, shaking her head slightly. Bane’s tale was mesmerizing. He seemed mostly detached. Mostly. Whenever he spoke of Talia or her mother every emotion he felt towards them was visible on his face.

With healthy dose of surprise she looked down at the plate he set before her. Simple sauteed chicken and mashed potatoes, with mushroom gravy. Chopped salad on the side. It looked delicious. Tentatively she dug in, after stealthy glance to her left to make sure Bane ate too.

“It’s really good,” she said.

“Why, thank you,” Bane swung another sip of his beer. “Why so surprised?”

“Didn’t think you had time to cook.”

“I make time for important things in my life,” he replied, challenge clear in his eyes. “Besides, it’s hardly a complicated ordeal.”

“Shall we continue with your story?”

“Let’s finish eating first.”

He seemed sad. Helena couldn't make herself press him harder. Gripping fork tighter than necessary, she tried to convince herself the urge to comfort him was natural.

Too soon for that still.

They ate in silence.

At one point Bane moved his elbow slightly too far and bumped Helena's forearm just as she raised a piece of chicken. The look she sent him after eyeballing cross-eyed her soiled nose was devastating.

“Really, Bane?”

“That wasn’t intentional,” he chuckled, leaning over the counter to get a paper towel.

“It’s hard to believe that sentence whenever you’re involved,” she said, sulking.

He scoffed and gently wiped sauce off her face, holding her still with warm fingers under her chin.

“I could do it myself,” she murmured, forcing herself to keep frowning, even after he let her go. Her ears warmed.

“I know.” He tucked back into his potatoes. “Still, the damage was done by me, so it’s only natural I was the one who took care of it.”

Helena glanced at him just as he licked some sauce off his lips. The argument died on her tongue, mind went blank.

“Also, you let me,” he said looking pensively ahead.

When they finished, Bane cleaned the dishes, refreshed Helena’s drink and ordered her to get cozy on the sofa.

She had a little panic attack while he was still busy in the kitchen, thinking over how and where to sit. Should she lay sprawled on one sofa, making him rest separately on the other? Sit, prim and proper, leaving him enough space to recline nearby? Would he even want to? Eventually, she decided to leave a bit of suspense for herself, and curled up in a corner, shielding her legs with a blanket. Sufficiently open, since there was more than enough place beside, but visibly closed off to any contact.

He sat at the opposite side, legs sprawled, leaning on the backrest while nursing his half-finished beer.

“Where did I stop?”

“You know where. Scars.”

“Ah yes. Courtesy of the medic. He tried stitching me up after I was beaten by other inmates. The result you saw. Also, there was pain. A lot of crippling pain. Coincidentally, we had a plague at that time too,” he added conversationally. “I’m not sure how long it lasted. Enough said, when rescue came, I was indifferent to anything but death.”

“Rescue?”

“Talia found her father after escaping. His name was Henri Ducard, a mercenary. Only he became much more than that during those ten long years between Talia's conception and the day she located him. He was known as Ra’s al Ghul, Demon's Head, the leader of League of Shadows.”

Helena would have burst with laughter, if she hadn’t heard that outrageous name before in correlation with Gotham.

“Are you a part of this organization?” she poked tentatively.

“I was,” he nodded. His eyes were glued all the time to the sight outside.

Helena kept observing him.

“I was rescued at Talia's explicit request. Most of inmates were killed during that operation, but some survived. The medic. My teacher. I was taken to League headquarters, nursed back to relative health. It was then I was given the mask. It operated on a volatile, extremely addictive drug. Venom. No idea who thought of the name, but it was very apt. It had unfathomably strong painkilling effect, and also acted as a booster. One of the reasons my muscle mass was so great.”

“It's still not too shabby.”

“I’m a shadow of my former self,” he noted without bitterness. “Both Talia and I were trained in martial arts, history and most importantly - purpose of the League. They discovered my good sides, and honed them to make me a perfect killer. All the time, I could feel Ducard resenting me, for fulfilling fathers’ role in his daughter's life. Eventually, I was excommunicated out of the league over a minor mistake, and had to make a name for myself.”

His head shifted on the backrest, gaze piercing. “I did everything to make people fear my very name. How I got it you might suspect,” he smiled as Helena nodded. “And then I multiplied every cruel deed by ten, and then more still, until I could wait until work came to me, instead of the other way around. I couldn’t see Talia often enough, because her father forbid any contact, so we had to hide well. I had more than enough time to plot, burn, pillage and destroy. Then you happened.”

There was something in the way he said it, that made Helena's heart ache. Timbre of his voice hitched, wistfulness crept between the syllables, reminding both of them of everything that transpired.

“It was only a year. Not even that.” Helena stated. Defensively, but with a hint of resolute determination. She won't be swayed or distracted again.

Bane smiled, looking out to the sea.

“You unsettled me. I never felt the need to experience the so called normal life. You changed that.” He swallowed another gulp of beer, frowned at the bottle and put it away. “But then I had to let you go.”

She wanted to tell him she was sorry, comfort him and smoothen the bitter grimace around his lips. Her hands fisted on the blanket, eyes turned to the sea as well.

“Right after I left the monastery, I got a word about Ra’s al Ghul's death. He was the man who tried to destroy Gotham back in 2008.”

“What?”

“The attack that had mass panic and unexplainable fear, looting and pillaging, the one that ended with a train crashing in the middle of the city? That was him.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Indeed.” Bane nodded solemnly. “Talia came to me pledging to help her take up his mantle as Demon’s Head. So I did. I plotted destruction of Gotham for years, all because little girl missed her daddy.”

The regret was dripping from every word. Helena startled when she looked at him again and saw tears streaking slowly down his cheeks.

“And all that effort wasted anyway.”

Helena’s hand gained its own conscience for a second, long enough to reach out to Bane. She couldnt touch him, it was too far, but the gesture was enough for him to lean closer and down, laying his head on her legs. For a second she was at a loss, but then instinct and emotions took over and she smoothed her palm through his hair.

Her voice was calm and steady, without hint of forgiveness when she spoke.

“But you would kill all those people without regret, if the bomb would have exploded.”

“Of course,” he admitted. “For the longest time I was forced into the narrative of fighting forces of evil, of corruption, of greed and shamelessness. We were supposed to be the pure ones, the scalpel to cut out the rot.” His fingers played with the thread of fabric before his eyes. “I knew it wasn’t true. Only at the end I realized Talia did as well and she planned to bury us all. To truly rid the world of those who soiled it.”

“What a crock of shit,” Helena whispered.

Bane smiled.

“Wait, but why are you presumed dead? How did you escape that showdown at City Hall?”

“I was preparing the siege itself since early 2009. There were measures I took. We had a hiccup in 2013, which made me think everything over again and make even more preparations in case of any possibility I could think of.” Slow smile crept on his lips. “I can imagine great many possibilities.”

Helena never doubted that.

“For one, I had these cottages built. For you,” he looked up.

Helena’s breath caught in her throat at raw feelings clearly visible there.

He lay back down, tossing slightly to adjust his spine.

“I had hideouts and bunkers in various parts of Gotham. I had redundancies, stashes, contacts and double agents, all prepared. So when all hell broke loose, quite literally because I was hit with a rocket, there were enough resources to hide me long enough. And my men are fiercely loyal, so they never even thought of betraying me.”

There was that spark, steely resolve and a hint of grandeur, the one she saw in full blown flame in the videos from Gotham.

She couldn’t let herself forget he was the same man.

“Good for you?” she managed dryly.

He looked up at her again, confused at her sarcasm.

“They were resources that let me live through an injury that would kill most people.”

Them and an enemy, who turned out to be a friend, he thought.

Helena kept petting his hair, but her eyes were cold, calculating.

“Why are you here, Bane? You have enough hideouts ready for you, I’m sure.”

“I've got no home, no place to think of as a home. And I’m in love with you. Have been for years.”

The effect his words had on Helena astonished him.

She frowned, lips setting into a thin, bitter line.

“What do you expect me to say?” she scoffed. “You leave me without a word for years, even after making sure what I think about you, how embarrassingly often I think about you,” she laughed mirthlessly, ”How I compare every man in my life to you. In every way. God, you goaded me into confiding in you. In Tony the safe friend, the pal who never got too close, the guy who always understood!” Voice rose to a shout she stood up, leaving Bane stranded on the blanket. “And never been there for me in person!”

Angrily she wiped tears from her cheeks, irritated they even were there. She was irate, not sad.

“I made sure you stayed safe and content throughout the years. Doesn't it count for at least something?” he said hotly, straightening up and looking down at her.

“Does it make me indebted to you?” she hissed, raising her chin to challenge him with a stare.

“It makes us connected,” he reasoned, calmly now. Hand he stretched towards her hung for a while in the air, after she reflexively shifted away. “At least I thought it did,” he finished.

Helena shook her head in denial, biting on her bottom lip.

“I need to think about it all. Sleep on it.” She moved to the door. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

Bane nodded.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said leaving.

Before she rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of Bane running fingers through his hair in frustration.

Well, it was a rollercoaster of a night. If she stayed she couldn't keep away from him and that would cloud her mind. She needed to clear head to deal with that situation.

Tomorrow.

  



	2. The Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your reading pleasure.  
> R&R!

The bed was made after she forced herself to get up and do some chores, shower and dress. Hopping on top of the cover she sat comfortably, preparing to surf the net. To distract herself from tempest raging in her mind since yesterday.

Thoughts coiled in her head all night, simultaneously tightening and releasing pressure over Helena's heart. Bane was alive. He was a short walk away, a distance she could scale anytime she wanted. He came for her, to be with her. It was everything she wanted. More even, since he was silently watching over her through all the years. Vigilant but careful, he never let her feel pressure other than concern of a friend.

All that while he planned to destroy a whole city, after keeping its occupants hostage for few bitter winter months, exposed to elements and cruelty, and oppression. Men, women, children alike.

Death was indiscriminate, but his pragmatism and casual way he talked about it rung discord in Helena's brain. How could one be both loving and murdering?  Focused on subtleties of academia and brutally murdering scientists?

She spent unnecessary hours trying to find in her mind arguments against him. Every single one felt hollow. Bane was a child of circumstance he was born into, molded by violence, later excelling in a cutthroat mercenary environment he was an autonomous part of. Tied by honour or sentiment he worked for League of Shadows, destroying and tainting the world… but what was the difference between him and some shady businessman who funded those kinds of operations?  Where was he worse from people ordering abductions, assassinations, assaults? How were his sins comparing to presidents ordering their troops to invade foreign countries, supposedly for peace and upholding higher moral values?

Ultimately, Helena knew Bane was at the very least a murderer. Probably objectively could be qualified as mass murderer. She couldn't find in herself an ounce of honest to God fear over that fact. What she needed was an explanation, reasoning, validation.

Above all, she wanted to make sure he was done with his mercenary work for good.

If only he'd spent all those years and resources towards his research. At fifty there was still some time left for him to leave his mark on the world, a different one he had scored already over the years. Maybe he could bridge the gap between his disposition and what the world made him become, maybe he could reconcile merciless machine of destruction with intricate tool of discovery.

After all, many inventions came to life from dusts of war.

Helena was still the most interested in Bane the person. The man behind now non-existent mask.

How would he be without everything he built so far? No people to govern over, no tasks to complete, no places to conquer. Peace and quiet of retirement crushed many men before him. Would he be like Napoleon, a genius tactician reduced to moping around an island he was confined to, no light in his eyes anymore? Would he become gluttonous and complacent?

All she needed to do to find out was simple - let the man do what he wanted.

But damn, he always got his way. This didn't feel right to just let him slide into comfort of a relationship, without a hitch, hindrance, without second thoughts.

She wanted nothing more herself...

Chime announced new email. She wasn't in the least interested in anything but her neighbourhood friendly mercenary, but obsessing over Bane had to stop. And for that she needed distraction. An email would do.

Was it a commission? A friend with news on their kid? A request from LinkedIn? Some horribly disfigured person asking for money for a medical procedure?

No such luck.

‘I read your emails.’ the message said simply.

Another chime.

‘All three hundred sixty four of them. It took a while.‘

Helena stared at the screen. Laptop could use some cleaning; the edges were darkened with grime. Fingerprints smudged the dark plane of glass. She focused on them instead of words displayed below.

‘One might think you were worried about me.’

“Oh, you fucking dick!” she growled.

‘Contrary to what you might have thought, I took care of you to the best of my abilities and possibilities. This land for instance, along with everything on it would be yours in the event of my death. There is a hefty sum to go with it. The notary is obliged to assist you in any legal matter you might encounter.’

‘Also, there is the small subject of your concessions. Who do you think gave Herr Schmidt your contact info? ‘

‘Also, there is another plot of land in Italy, and apartment in London. A mansion in Kashmir. Summer houses in Chile, Namibia, Mongolia, and Argentina. House in Louisiana. Pick any if this place doesn't suit your needs.’

‘Also, you might want to reconsider your comment about being indebted to me. You're welcome to follow my suggestion as for the interpretation of this whole situation.‘

Infuriating. He danced around important subjects, never leaving any information that could link him to his true identity, all the while conscious of Helena’s awareness of the double meaning of his words. Playing her knowledge against her.

Closing her eyes to think she exhaled slowly, ignoring pings of notifications coming from the computer. Well, for one Bane did put enormous effort into tricking her. Then again, it was all to make her comfortable and content. He never talked her out of her numerous affairs. Instead, he made sure she was well provided for, either by his own commissions or those of his friends. As control freaks go, he was actually quite caring and generous.

Okay, now he was agitated too. Five messages in span of around five minutes.

Very unlike Bane.

Helena glanced over the emails, more ranting with “also” as a starter, and hit reply on the latest one. If they were to discuss anything it certainly couldn't happen over monitored emails.

‘Let's go for a walk. Meet me at mine in five.’

She sent it and closed the laptop. Not wasting time immediately went to put on her boots and warm jacket. She was finishing with laces when Bane appeared on the pathway to her cottage. Well before the time she gave him.

She thought he'd look out of place, the memory of his imposing silhouette from Armenia still etched in her mind, but he was irritatingly casual to a bystander. If not for the scars one could think this was just an ordinary man, past his prime but still fit. Dark jumper with turtleneck hid most of his markings, the sleeves long enough to cover his hands down to base of thumbs. Washed down blue of baggy jeans blended with grey sneakers. The only spot of colour was scarf tossed carelessly around his neck.

Helena could have sworn he magically shrunk over the years. Once she thought he was a giant. Now, as he stood politely by the glass door to the terrace waiting for an invitation in, she saw he couldn't be taller than her latest fling. Which put Bane from realm of fantasy back into cozy normalcy. Unnerving. Dangerous. He was anything but normal, average or ordinary.

She stood up and gestured for him to come in.

“Since it's all yours I don't see why you're sticking to formalities,“ she observed, sliding her hands into warm jacket. It was still chilly out.

“It's your home. I'd hate to be impolite.”

Helena only hummed in wonder. Bane watched as she tucked scarf and hat on, zipped up and put gloves on her hands.

“Are we going far?”

“Don't be so amused. I was always amazed how you'd burn up even in the middle of winter.” They went out to the terrace and Helena immediately congratulated herself choice of wardrobe. Despite the sun, cold wind pinched her cheeks with unpleasant gusts. “We might take a turn around the beach?”

Bane nodded and they started, silent for the short walk down to the sea. He followed Helena down wooden steps through budding foliage, across the tarmac and down to the sandy patch by the water. Only then he stepped up a bit to catch up and stroll shoulder to shoulder.

“I like your hair like this,” he gestured vaguely towards her messy bun.

“Dishevelled?“

“Long. But the disarray is quite charming too,” he admitted.

“Thank you. I like you with your hair on better too.”

The weather was nice, even though gale from over the sea tossed their scarves around carelessly.

“You know, I don't think we ever went anywhere together like this. Always either you or I was one step behind, trailing along.”

“Technically you’re wrong, since I carried you around once or twice. Almost the same.”

“I disagree. That's hardly comparable to walking together.”

“Perhaps.”

“I'm worried, you know.” She sighed. Bane waited patiently for a follow-up. “You turn up all of a sudden after all this time and I have to remind myself of everything you are.”

“Do you?” He sounded genuinely interested.

“No, I really don't.” Helena laughed dryly. “But it feels wrong to just pick everything up and start anew.”

“Why?”

“Well, you're a mass murderer. Maybe not exactly, since the bomb exploded safely away from Gotham, but you confirmed yourself you wanted to blow everyone up.”

“Does it matter to you?”

Fuck.

“Maybe.”

“Helena.”

He knew her too well, had her thoughts, intimate and private, on display for him for years.

“How do I even call you now?” she spat angrily, furrowing her brows in impotent frustration.

He only chuckled. “Tony.”

Nose wrinkled in comical display of distaste Helena sneered.

“Don't be ridiculous. It doesn't fit you one bit.”

“It’s my name.”

“I get it, your alias should be like a second skin, yadda, yadda…”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don't understand. That is my real name.”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“But you were born in prison.” Like that would be the explanation to everything.

“Every penal institution keeps meticulous records.”

“Even ones where people are treated like animals?”

“Yes, even those. I know exact time and date of my birth, names of my parents, my weight, height, and credentials of doctor who cut the umbilical cord. No different from any other person.” Looking down at her he snorted inelegantly. “You thought it was all savagery and dirt?”

“It sounded like it.”

“Nazis treated people like inferior beings, which didn't stop them from recording every name anyway.”

“Point taken. Still, Tony just doesn't suit you.”

He chuckled again. “What would then?”

“...Bane.”

He laughed.

“But we can't keep using that name, what if someone overhears?” she continued, oblivious to the way he stared at her in amazement. Whether she realized, the decision was made, and she already acted upon it. “I could always try calling you ‘babe'. “ She winked at him. “Sounds almost the same and is culturally acceptable. Alas,” theatrical sigh escaped her, followed by slight shaking of her head, “that would imply a relationship closer than what we have.”

“How do you mean?” Bane furrowed his brows again. Maybe she knew exactly where she stood and only played with him?

“Well I don't really know you. I thought once I had you all figured out,” rueful smile softened her gaze for a second, when she recalled one conversation they shared, “but in reality I don't know how to reconcile everything I know about you. You're like three different people to me now. Bane the terrorist, Tony the scientist and this unnamed man who said yesterday he loves me.“

No, she wasn't sure what she wanted, Bane thought. She was figuring it all out still.

“It’s too much, all at once. Two days ago I was mourning your death. Yours and Dorrance's!” She huffed a small scoff. “And now here we are. But enough on that. What did you mean when you said you want me to go away with you?”

“There are people who know your name and your connection to me never was a mystery. I wanted to take you somewhere where we could both have a fresh start.”

“But I like it here.”

“It would be safer that way.”

“You assumed I'd just pack my things and go because you say so?”

“Yes.”

“How typical.” There was some disappointment in her tone, but she was surprisingly stable otherwise. “How about this. Stay here with me. Let me get to know you. Then we'll see.”

The proposal was risky at best. Unwise.

“For how long?” Bane found himself asking to buy some time.

“I don't know. As long as it takes, I guess.”

“It’s not a game, Helena. “

“I'm not playing games with you… pal.”

“Pal?”

“I have to call you something!”

“How about ‘mate'?”

“Tsk, tsk, you try to sneak double meaning in there?”

“Never,” he winked.

But his smirk faltered into a disappointed scowl.

“I imagined this to be different,” he admitted towards the sea.

“Well, it's real.”

“It is,” he agreed.

No matter what happened next he knew he'd never let her go now. Even if she would keep him perpetually an arm’s length away. Just being together like this, walking down the beach, was doing wonders to his battered soul. For the first time in years he felt good. Even despite aches of his body and discomfort the conversation brought along.

The smile he gave her when he turned back threatened to overpower weak March sun. She didn't see it, observing rolling clouds, swimming deep into her own thoughts.

He faltered. That was his mistake in the past. He was too focused on his own musings to take into consideration she had ones of her own. Valid point of view, vector of actions she took. He would do well to listen to her more carefully this time. What he wanted could be different from what she needed...

“How did you get here, anyway? After you've been hit by a rocket back in Gotham.”

The reply was automatic, he had other things on his mind, but he was glad she was interested in him still.

“There was a lot of commotion that I missed, since I was unconscious for the most part. I ended up in a bunker, been roughly patched up. Transported around the city to avoid detection, then out with a smuggling tunnel. Spent most of those two months on a vessel at sea.” And in a hideout that was tropical mansion in Bahamas. Details, details, details. Helena didn’t have to know everything, at least not all at once.

“And you magically healed yourself?”

“No. There was a professional who took care of me.”

“So, the League of Shadows just let you go?”

“No.”

“Are you going to volunteer any information without me explicitly asking for it?”

“Probably not. It's not who I am.”

“Go figure,” she chuckled.

Bane resisted an overwhelming urge to gather her close and kiss that sound away. He hadn't had a chance to kiss her yet. How did that omission even happen?

“Okay, so what about your primary occupation then?” she continued, unaware of his inner turmoil.

“I'm an astrophysicist.“

“I'm being serious here, friend.”

He was taken aback.

“Is it really so hard for you to call me by my name?” Do we have to negotiate everything too?  He thought. Do you still want me? Why won't you accept me for who I am now instead of who I was?

“Yes. Now stop evading the question.”

Her sincerity put him in his place.

“They thought I was dead, but are probably looking for me.”

“Why?”

“They expect me to lead them. Expected. Now they probably want me eliminated.“

It came out more bitter than he intended, resentment towards Helena bleeding out into his words.

“Would you stay alive as long as you did, if that was really their objective?”

Bane stopped dead midstride.

“Well, your men are League’s men, are they not?”

“They are loyal to me.” The argument sounded childish even to his own ears. But he knew that to be true.

“Maybe they just let you retire with dignity.” Helena reasoned, offhand remark offering no comfort, only brutal honesty backed by cold logic. That was a hard blow. The realization he might have been let go of consciously, as a courtesy for years of work. As a reward for his sacrifices.

“You could step up and lead them different path, right? But you chose to come here instead.”

Action as clear to interpret as a written resignation.

“What happened to the people who cared for you when you were convalescing after Gotham? The ones who smuggled you to safety?”

“They work for the league still, or went into hiding.”

He never stopped to think about what happened to them. Some leader he was.

“I still don't understand how you are up and about so fast after major injury.”

“That drug I was taking, the one the mask was for. It had many purposes beside the main one. One side effect was vastly improved self-healing ability of my body,” he supplied absentmindedly.

He didn't leave them, they abandoned him. A general no longer needed. Broken soldier sent back home to put himself together, too incomplete to be an asset again.

“Cool.”

Helena's amused voice brought him back to reality.

Wasn't that what he wanted? To be left alone, to live in peace?

If the League let him go, as she suspected, he had nothing to escape from. He could just stay here.

“Plus I was cared for by the person who concocted it. She is real magician with organic chemistry,“ he finished his previous thought out loud.

“Isn't magic an undiscovered science?”

“Indeed.”

This time he made sure she saw his happy grin. Relief pooled in the pit of his stomach and he started different kind of plotting nearly instantly.

Again, why didn't he kiss her yet?

 

oOo

 

Bane stopped at the threshold waiting for Helena to permit him entry. She scoffed and waved him in, aggravated with his attention to formalities.

“Do it one more time and I will legitimately treat you like a vampire. With your accelerated healing and all.” She warned half seriously.

“That was Venom. Don't have it anymore.” He vaguely gestured around his bare face.

“Oh. Mere mortal like the rest of us puny humans.”

“Quite so.”

He followed her downstairs to the kitchenette.

“Take a seat,” Helena threw over her arm as she busied herself with the stove. There was still enough soup for the two of them, and she could make some grilled cheese to go with it.

Warm chest pressed to her back and two big palms splayed over the counter on each side of her. Bane leaned in to peek over her shoulder.

“What are we having?”

“Chunky tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Do you like them with mustard?”

“I don't know.”

“I'll make two kinds then. Fried in butter or baked?”

“You decide.”

“Mustard ones will be fried, and I'll make plain baked too, then.”

“Sounds good,” he rumbled and turned back to sit at the table.

Silence stretching between them was cozy like a blanket, invaded only by sounds of Helena working, heating up pan and oven, layering cheese over toasts and checking on soup back on the stove. Bane just watched her sprawled in the chair like in the old days, listening to her absent-minded humming. Skylight in the corner let some of pale sunlight in, but it hardly reached the counter below and rest of the room. Helena worked under cold spotlight stretching under upper shelves over the working station. The oven emitted warm, yellow light, a counterpoint to almost medical detachment of grey planes of steel shelves with their cold blue of led lamps.

This was it. The feeling of rightness washed over Bane, the familiarity of place and situation, ridiculous since there was nothing he could attach himself to. But he did find himself at home. Sitting in a chair and watching Helena like he did so many times before.

It was right, somewhat. He was complete.

“You make me satisfied. That's why I came here. You make life simple. There is something that's just enough, without much fight, without much arguing. You allow me to just, be,” he said, recalling a rant interested same subject years past.

To think she knew what was best for him even back then.

“This is the first time in your life no one expects anything of you,” she mused, mulling over his words while she ladled the soup.

Bane only murmured in agreement, waiting for anything more she might add.

Twin bowls clunked softly on wooden plane of the table, followed by plates Helena set gently with a smile.

“Tuck in,” she encouraged Bane, sipping soup with a muffled sigh of satisfaction.

“How barbaric,” he noted, smiling over bite of toast.

“Cutlery is useful, but not always necessary. This is much better at warming one up after a stroll,” she defended herself, glancing coyly over rim of the bowl before she set it finally on the table. “Besides, isn't it nice to wrap your hands around something warm and pretty?“

“I had in mind something else than clay,” he smiled. She didn't pick up on frivolous tone he used. Too soon still? “This is my new favourite thing. This soup.” He practically inhaled half of it in one go. “If I knew how good you were in the kitchen I would have you cooking along with copying.”

“You don't get to joke about that!” She huffed in mock annoyance.

“Why not?”

“I'm supposed to be traumatized over the subject, you know.”

“Are you?”

“Not over this one, no.” There was enough between them to leave open the possibility of working through myriad other things other than the fact she was abducted and imprisoned. “So, did you have anyone? Over the years?”

Surprised look he sent her was a gem, the unguarded way his lips opened a bit taking off at least a decade of strain off his face.

“There were women,” he admitted.

“Anyone long term? “

“No,” he furrowed his brows, leaning back in the chair. “You know how difficult it is to meet anyone not professionally interested in my person, in my line of occupation. They were all paid.“

Helena nodded with a hum, not in the least put out.

“I expected as much.”

“Last one was few years back,” he said quietly, munching on his toast, eyes turned down.

It wasn't like him to be embarrassed, so what was it?

“So this is the first time in your life you're allowed to just get to know people, develop healthy relationships, without complications over work.”

That wasn't a question. She said it like she only needed him to confirm something she thought about long and hard, before they even started this conversation.

Bane didn’t like the look of resolve on her face. Not one bit.

“Where are you going with this?”

“I think we both should give each other ample time and space to work this situation over,” she said, a decisive nod punctuating her conclusion.

“Explain.”

“Perhaps it is not me you're in love with, but the idea of this life that I lead. The peaceful life you want to have. Perhaps I'm in love with the memory of you, more than the actual person.”

He couldn't argue otherwise immediately, which in itself gave him pause.

“What then? How do you want to proceed?”

“We have the basic covered already. Let's get to know each other. You have your cottage, I have mine. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to broaden your circle of friends.”

With some effort Helena could pretend she didn't notice how he seethed across her.

“Which reminds me, Grace and Graham will invite me over for Easter, am I allowed to say you're here?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“Would you like to come with?”

“I don't know,” His eyes were impassive, but his jaw was set so hard he barely opened it to speak. “My thanks for the meal,” he nodded and turned to the stairs.

“Are you gonna sulk because I want to deal with this situation like an adult?”

“Am I allowed to?” He sneered.

“Do what you want. I know I can take care of myself and just live on my own. Can you?”

He turned at the bottom of narrow staircase, straightening up to look down at her. No more a scientist she walked with over past hour.

“Helena, you will do well to remember one simple truth about me. Whatever you or I would like to think, I am not a product of my circumstances. I am a product of my decisions.” His voice was quiet, but gravitas of words seeped to her in powerful confident waves, strengthening their message. “And my decisions over past decade proved that not only am I  capable of taking care of myself, but also of you, and a very complicated military operation, all at the same time.” His eyes narrowed, conducting the anger he felt. “Now for the solitary living, the whole point of me being here was to avoid it. I've been alone most of my life. But I understand your fears. You won't hear from me again, until you ask yourself for my presence.” He nodded in farewell. “Goodbye, neighbour.”

 


	3. The Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, last part as promised. :)  
> R&R!

Her gums hurt. Itched like teeth were about to fall out or maybe new ones bud. She drank plenty of water but could barely eat anything.

Nasty, nasty cold.

And she ran out of tissues. Wet ones were finished first, her most precious resource wasted on what turned out to be only the beginning of her drudgery. Three packs of regular were out in a blink, and now she was reduced to wiping her nose with toilet paper. Chamomile scent was pleasant, but it was way too coarse for her abused nose. She had blisters.

Clerk at the clinic barely understood her over the phone with how hoarse she sounded. That, or her Norwegian was worse than she was led to believe. Somehow she secured an appointment with a physician. In the end.

There was no way she could drive with sinuses aching so much her eyes watered from the light. She resigned to the only option left.

‘I need help getting to town. Can you come over?’

She sent the email before her mind changed. Well, she was only going to ask a favour. As a friend.

Their last talk still sat bitter in her memory, a reminder that he had his reasons, valid feelings she forgot to take into consideration. So what he didn't know better. If he wanted specifically her, why was she even thinking of pushing him into arms of other women?

It was for the best, she told herself. To spare them both the disappointment of betrayal later on, when the excitement dies down and routine starts crumbling on the edges of their understanding. Maybe Bane would find her insufficient or disgusting in normal, daily life. Maybe she would bore him.

Maybe he would be too dull for her?

Maybe, just maybe, the memory she had of him would be too much of a challenge and even Bane himself won't be enough to satisfy her anymore?

She moaned, frustrated, and punched on the mattress beneath. She couldn't even keep away for more than two days. Who was she kidding? She wanted him, every way she could have him.

Still, there was a part of her that wanted him to be happy too, and that stupid chunk of her heart that wasn't egoistic whispered that maybe he could be happier with someone whole. Untainted by knowledge of who he was before.

But it did sting when he finished his angry tirade with that impersonal ‘goodbye, neighbour.’ Fuck, did it feel wrong. She was so much more to him.

Was this how he felt when she called him ‘pal' and ‘friend’? Would it really be so difficult to try and bind his face to Tony she knew from hours of conversations over emails?

Shadows of clouds darkened the ceiling. Even that was too much for her sore eyes.

Hearing sharpened with loss of distractions from sense of sight she picked up steady marching on the pathway. Hurried marching. Eager? Worried? She counted seconds, imagining him on flat steps up, then turning slightly to slide to the entryway without rubbing his shoulders on coarse rock.

A knock.

Oh for the love of… Didn't she explicitly tell him to stop with that nonsense? Fucker didn't know where to stop.

“Come in!” She croaked out.

The door opened tentatively.

“Mrs Wolf?”

That wasn't Bane. She sat up abruptly. Went into a coughing fit that probably sounded like she was about to spit out her lungs.

“Who are you?” she wheezed out eventually. “I was actually waiting for a friend to pick me up, I don't have much time before my visit at the doctors.”

“I see. My name is Brown. I'm with Homeland Security.“ ID flashed briefly, but she didn't need to see it anyway. Even if he really was with the organization.

Helena scoffed.

“Homeland,“ she practically spat. “Wouldn’t it be easier to understand if you said you’re with US Government?”

“Perhaps,” the man smiled. After all she didn't have any problems with discerning who he was representing. “I was wondering if we could have a talk. When you get better, of course.”

“Concerning what?” Helena asked, already knowing the answer.

“Bane.”

What else?

“Why would you want to talk with me about a dead man?”

“Missing man,” he corrected.

“Why would you want to talk with me about a missing man then?” She asked again, not really caring about the answer.

Would Bane notice a stranger and keep to his cottage? She hoped so. Desperately.

“I think you are a person he might want to contact.”

“He didn't through last ten years. I'll let you know if he changes his mind. Leave a card on the stairs please.” The dismissal was plain to see.

The man smiled up at her. Didn't move an inch.

“Helena.“

Oh no. Bane.

He came through the terrace. Thick scarf peeked out from navy blue jacket, fluffy and green like moss. He had jeans secured in brown chukkas, messenger bag hanging off one shoulder. The very picture of an academic. No one would believe it was the same man who terrorized Gotham just three months prior.

She barely remembered about it herself when he wobbled carefully closer, the pain of every step visible in rigid way he held himself.

“We should go soon,“ he said. Nodded at Brown. “Tony Dorrance.“

“John Brown.”

They didn't shake hands.

Helena had another coughing fit, so she didn't catch any parting words the agent might have had. When she caught her breath, he was gone already.

“Shall we?” Bane asked.

So he heard their conversation.

She slid down the stairs, sat at the bottom step to put on her boots.

“Sorry to bother you, but I'm in no state to drive and I have an appointment at the clinic in half an hour. I need some groceries too, if you don't mind.”

“My pleasure.”

“He will be back,” she observed.

Bane only grunted in agreement.

“Others might come too,” she added.

“That's possible.“

She stood up to put on coat that Bane gallantly held out for her. Then he wrapped scarf securely around her neck. Calloused fingers stroked her skin with every movement under guise of straightening the fabric.

“You sneaky bastard.“ Helena smiled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He winked.

She wanted to wrap herself in him and stay at home. Lock the door and install blinds, for no one to interrupt an eternity of lying down doing nothing.

Sneeze crept up on her, an unwelcome reminder she was ill.  

Touched in the head, too.

 

oOo

 

Drive in and back were done in a blink. Before Helena finished at the doctor’s, Bane was waiting in the car with groceries put away neatly in linen bags. How did he manage to buy anything this fast was beyond her, but she was too drained to linger on the subject.

She watched pines and other conifers she couldn't name whizz past in a matted green blur. The experience of going somewhere brought back memories, ones she usually had to keep hidden away.

Not anymore.

“Feels so weird to go away with you without a blindfold on,” she mused.

“Easy to amend,” he said, sliding up her scarf.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” she scolded playfully, pulling the fabric back down.

He stopped the car in his usual spot by his cabin.

“I thought you could bring me a bit closer.”

“No need.”

“I beg to differ.”

“It would be best if you slept at my cottage tonight. For security reasons.“ He kept looking at the road. “Guest bedroom,” added after a brief pause. “It's easier than at your place to get to bathroom and kitchen too.”

“Okay.”

He smiled. He did that surprisingly often for a terrifying mercenary overlord. Former, she remained herself. Ex terrorist.

It was hard not to smile back.

He showed her the room and Helena wasted no time, dropping face down on the bed. As soon as she hit the mattress she dozed off.

When she awoke later it was already dark outside. Her throat was parched, lips dry as sand and chapped. Sinuses still pulsed with throbbing waves of pain.

“Bane?” she tried, but her voice was barely above a whisper. Fantastic.

Sluggishly, she slid out of the bed. Looked down at herself. She had pajamas on. No bra. Fresh pair of panties. Even though she distinctly remembered falling onto the mattress completely dressed right after they came back.

Arrogant bastard, she thought with a smirk. But, he made her comfortable, and it felt nice. To be cared for.

There was a pitcher of water on bedside table. Some pills and a note. Warm long cardigan waited draped over the dresser, along with woollen socks. Of course, he thought of everything.

Now she needed only to find the bathroom.

Shuffling uncertainly she moved towards the door. Certainly there should be a light switch, but she debated if she really needed one. Skylight in the room provided some bluish shimmer from the moon, and she already knew the house from previous visits with Grace and Graham. Unless Bane changed something drastically, she needed only to go down the corridor and find her way to second door down. She could do it without stabbing her eyes out with surge of brightness.

Entrance to her room was ajar, so she slid out noiselessly. Felt almost like back at the monastery,  when she tried to sneak away. Memory of Bane carrying her back to the cell warped and she remember only how nice it was to be close to him, surrounded by taut muscles and his earthy scent.

Was this a murmur behind the door on her right?

She stood listening in. That had to be Bane’s bedroom. Was he talking with someone? There was no indication that he had computer on, the floor beneath his door as black as the rest of panels. But maybe he was on his phone. He had to have one.

Right when Helena decided to move forward, there was strangled yelp, a sob, and Bane yelled.

“Talia, don’t!”

The anguish was heartbreaking, filling air with echo of fear and sorrow.

He was having a nightmare. The realization rooted Helena to the ground. What was she to do? Was it okay to wake him up? Maybe she just had to hug him, to let his subconscious feel he wasn’t alone?

Whatever it was, she had to do something. Anything.

Now that she focused on it, his rapid breathing was audible, distinct in its regularity in the overwhelming silence of the house. Not even swooshing of the sea and surging wind could drown it out. He mumbled something, too quiet for her to understand, words unintelligible or in a language she didn’t know.

He was hurting. She didn’t want him to feel bad anymore, not even as a penance for all lives he took.

Drawing in a deep breath, she wiped her nose one last time and stepped towards his room.

The floor creaked loudly.

In the same second she jumped with fear, as loud bang reverberated through the corridor.

Heart fluttered rapidly in her ribcage, hammering away with a deafening roar in her ears. Before her, at level with her eyes, a blade was fixed in the door. Blackened sides didn't reflect meager light, but silvery edge glistened dully in a long, serrated, lethal line.

Helena gulped down thick saliva pooling in her mouth. Body rigid with fear she listened on.

It was silent, but she caught a squeak of the bed. Then gentle rustle of sheets and a tired sigh. No more panting, no more whispered or shouted pleas. Bane must have heard the crack and he reacted instinctively, neutralizing the danger. Throwing a knife with such force it lodged up to the hilt in thick wood.

If the door wasn’t closed it would pin her to the wall.

Okay. That was a reminder she needed. He was still dangerous, whether he acknowledged it or not. Could hurt her, or kill, without even realizing it.

Back in Armenia he let her sleep beside him, allowed himself rest along her. She never saw him toss or turn, his body always controlled even in the midst of dreams. What happened now had to be a repercussion from the stress of Gotham, before, during and after the siege.

Come to think of it, it was a wonder he didn’t suffer anything more than night terrors.

Or did he?

Tentatively, Helena moved back to her room. Bathroom could wait. She had rest of the night to think over what had happened. And how to make it stop.

 

oOo

 

She felt like shit. Sleep overcame her somewhere in between worrying about Bane and praying to hold her bladder in check. It wasn’t a restful slumber too, her nerves strung tight with memory of a near death experience.

Never a dull day with Bane.

Speaking of the Devil. He was sprawled on the sofa, reading something on computer. Hands kept stroking through skin of his scalp, fingers playing restlessly with short mane of hair on top. As if he couldn't get used to actually having something there, something else than straps of the mask.

“Enjoying freedom?” she asked, walking carefully towards the kitchen behind his back, mindful of stacks of boxes and books around.

Bane only hummed in affirmation.

“What are we gonna do if some CIA or NSA guy comes around asking again?” Voice hitched up and down, she barely understood herself. Fucking cold.

“Nothing.”

Water filled kettle with gentle hum, masking her tired sigh. It wasn't mystery that he wasn’t simple to be around, but she had no patience left to pick apart every little thing. She needed some clear, fast answers and solutions to calm herself down.

One problem at a time.

Mug of tea in hand she plopped beside him looking out to the sea.

“I saw the crack in your bedroom door.”

“It's nothing.”

“I was on the other side where you made it,” she noted calmly.

That got his attention. He looked at her, no doubt trying to gather every clue as for her standing on the matter. No luck buddy, she thought, I can’t breathe through my nose, no way I’m gonna look anything but miserable.

“That won't happen again.”

“Damn right, I'm sleeping back at my place as soon as I feel better. And I'm not going to attempt or in fact  even think about waking you up if you'll have another nightmare.”

“Good.”

She scoffed at him. He really thought that was the end of it?

“You're fucking unbelievable.  Do you think you're impervious to all human affliction only because you're Bane, the legendary mercenary asshole?”

He probably did. Now he was more focused on her agitation than the fact that her life was at stake because of him. Nothing happened, so no harm done. Helena was far from being at peace with that reasoning.

“You care about me,” he noted, looking back to his computer with smug smirk.

“Act like you do now and that will change,” she warned. “Unless you’d like to see my bloodied body in the corridor when you wake up. I saw the blade right before me. Your aim is uncanny.”

He grew serious then, but Helena felt the urge to hammer the point inelegantly,  to let him know how she felt.

“I don't feel safe around you.”

Getting up to fix herself something to eat she glanced at him. He was crushed, unseeing eyes still on the screen.

Helena seethed as she ravaged through the fridge, and went back with full plate to sit back beside him. She offered it, and he took a piece of salmon on egg like a peace offering.

“I'm still mad at you,” she said around bite of bread she was chewing.

“I'm aware,” he mumbled.

“Are you going to get help with your nightmares?”

The movement of his head, sharp but fluid, didn't surprise her. Hurt in his eyes though, did.

“I don't need help.”

Like fuck he didn’t. She didn't have it in her to argue though. The right was on her side, she had proof in flesh.

“So, are you going to do anything about it yourself?” she inquired.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I'm not going to discuss that.”

Helena knew he had to have his reasons. Mainly his history of global terrorism. Still. There were ways to work over that.

“Why not, Bane?” she drilled.

Silence. He glowered at the laptop and stole an apple from her plate.

“You can't deal with it on your own. Even if it doesn't impede your daily life now, it will. Go see a doctor,” she insisted.

“No.”

He didn’t even look at her, engrossed into something on the computer.

“Please go see a specialist.“ her throat was giving up, and it came out weak and pleading, instead of harsh and demanding as she wanted.

“No.”

Clacking of keys was rapid, as he worked, ignoring her.

“Oh, for the love of…” Exasperated, she grasped at straws. “Will you at least let me try something?“

“No.”

“It was adorable first two times, now you're just being annoying.”

“No.”

Oh, so he thought he could just shut her out. After he nearly begged for attention. For a relationship.

“Fine,” she said.

Bane missed the look on her face, but he glanced worriedly after her, retreating back to her room.

Like hell she would let him stew in his guilt and fears. Like hell she would let herself be brought along.

 

oOo

 

“Helena!”

The shout was angry, loud and succeeded in tensing her muscles. Fantastic. Here she was, taking a well-deserved hot bath before she went back to her simple cottage and he had to go and ruin it.

Good thing she closed the door.

“Open up.”

“Whatever it is, you can wait until I'm done,” she shouted back.

Really, she was a doll for past week. Took her medicine, ate everything he brought even if she didn't have an appetite for it, entertained him with conversation even while her brain was slowly stewing away.

And now this.

“I picked up your package,” he informed, no doubt leaning heavily on the wall just outside the door.

“Thank you.”

“Don't you fucking mock me!” Bane shouted.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. So very unlike him to lose control like this. All the more reasons for her to assist him in resolving his problem.

“You didn't want any help. How do you expect me to behave when you're being childish? It's only natural I'll treat you like a child.”

Lock snapped, manipulated from outside. Shitty manufacturing. The door opened, slowly, with bone chilling creak. Bane had to be very deliberate to produce it, especially prolonged as it was.

Intimidating Helena was more difficult than that. Especially while she had bigger guns in her arsenal, currently aimed at him. So to speak.

She cracked one eye open to look at him.

“Well?”

Whatever argument he had died on his lips once he saw her, submerged in bath, mounds of thick foam enveloping every visible stretch of her skin.

“I didn't think so,” she said, smiling lightly at the look on Bane’s face. Stupefied. Who would have thought his weakness would be some water mixed with soap?

“Be nice and at least see what it says on the package. “

Bane shook his head as if he needed to clear it from a haze. And maybe he did, considering their history with baths. And showers.

“Lully Sleep Guardian uses the proven scheduled awakening technique to prevent night terrors,” he read out loud, sitting on a chair after he nudged her clothes to the floor.

“Ninety percent success in clinical trials since 1988,” she supplied with a sing sang voice.

Bane was already engrossed in a leaflet provided with the device, frowning slightly. He did look like a petulant child.

“What if it doesn't work,” he asked, raising his eyes to hers. “What if I’m in that ten percent left?”

“Then we'll try an adult way of dealing with PTSD,” she stated. “One that is illegal, but efficient.”

“What?”

“Pot.”

That made him laugh. He snorted derisively at the end.

“I don't know which is worse,” he said.

“You suffering versus some recreational smoking or a vibrator under your mattress? Gee, Bane, and you were supposed to be the intellectual here.”

“Stop mocking me.”

“Start behaving like yourself. Don't hide the issue, don't run away from problems.”

“Oh, you have monopoly on that, don't you?”

“If you say so.” She shrugged.

Her indifference infuriated him and he scaled the distance to the bathtub with thumping steps, sitting on the side to lean dangerously over Helena.

“Maybe I need some other outlet to my stress, hmm?” He hissed, calloused fingers gently stroking her cheek and neck. “Maybe I just need a good fuck to settle.”

“I don’t want to fuck you,” she said calmly.

That wasn't even a lie. At this moment he was being difficult and bratty, far removed from anything she wanted to get herself into.

Humiliated, he straightened, lips twisted in bitter scowl.

“Don't forget you came to me before. Of our two, you're the one who can't endure without a good fuck for more than a few months. How long has it been this time? You'll come to me again.”

Typical, lashing out when balance of the argument tipped out of his favour. Defensive mechanism as clear as day. Apparently,  he forgot Helena had some experience with trauma, and claws of her own.

“How can you be so sure now that I have other viable options on the table? I'm not bound to you, Bane. Neither are you to me. If you want, go and find someone to screw with.”

She watched him storm away, leaving the door open, seeping all warmth out.

She plunged into receding foam down to her eyes, nose submerged under the water. Blew a raspberry, bubbles tickling her cheeks.

What a mess.

She never thought it would be easy. Still, some insane part of her brain wanted to just get up and go to him saying ‘You have a butt and I have a pair of hands, gosh what a coincidence’, and let him ravish her all night long.

Now that the mask was gone? Fuck. What was she doing?

But it would be more damaging to hide everything under the rug. Pretend nothing happened between now and Armenia. They both needed more time.

Maybe she should go away? That would probably be for the best, time for both of them to think rationally and clearly. No aggravating their wounds, old and new alike.

Easter was around the corner, so she could surprise her sister with a holiday visit.

Mulling over everything she took her time drying and dressing, absentmindedly tying a loose knot of the robe. It was high time she went back to her cottage anyway, since the only remnants of her illness were tender throat and slightly runny nose.

Bane was sitting in living area, hunched on the sofa with elbows on his knees.

“I'm packing my things and going back tonight.”

“Indeed?”

If she didn't know better, Helena might be tempted to think he was glad she would be gone. What an awful thought.

Before she gathered herself enough to say anything more, he straightened and leaned back craning his neck on the backrest.

Damn. That part of him was always her weakness. Inexplicably, it was still smooth and strong, a trademark of masculinity, with adam's apple bobbing slightly when Bane swallowed.

Only after few seconds she noticed tears silently rolling down to hide in hair at his temples.

“I'm sorry. I don't know how to do this. Don't leave me to figure it out without you.”

How was she supposed to go now?

Sofa creaked when she sat beside him on folded legs. Bane turned his head to look at her.

“Why are you smiling?”

“We're both idiots,” she stated. He frowned.

Why was she building artificial walls between them instead of focusing on getting rid of those that already existed?

“I'm not abandoning you. I will stay for two nights more, but only if you promise to try Lully out. “

“Agreed.” That was too fast, but Helena was far from done. Her eyes strayed to his neck again. How in hell did he avoid getting burns there?

“Good. I'll need you to remove any weapons you might have in easy reach around your bed, too.”

“I can't do it.” He tensed, and to prevent him from straightening up she threaded her hand through his hair.

“Yes you can, and you will.” Fingers playing with short strands she watched him settle gradually under her touch. “Ask something in return and it will be a trade, not surrender.”

Voicing it out loud was risky tactic, but she needed him to understand he wasn’t as secretive as he probably thought.

“Sleep with me.” Immediate,  without thinking about it. Breath hitched slightly in her throat. Oh yes, yes please!  she wanted to shout.

Instead, nagging demon of reason forced her to say,

“That would defeat the whole purpose of my stay.”

“Kiss me.” Again, without a shred of indecision.

Hesitation written on her face resulted in Bane straightening back, disappointed scowl twisting scars marring his cheek and jaw.

“Why can't we take thing slow and stay at being friends for now?” She tried to reason, twisting slightly to face him better. It was an argument both for him and her… One she wasn't sure she had a good answer to anymore.

“Because I love you and…” He trailed off. His eyes were turned down, focused on something with troubling intensity. “No, you're right. Friends is fine.”

Helena narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Really?”

She didn't see his hand sneaking behind her, but felt it splaying possessively on her lower back. Bane slid her closer, twisting his head to bring his lips to hers.

“Friends with benefits. It's a thing, isn't it?”

Arrogant fucker.

His skin touched hers, an electric tease, raising fine hair at the back of her neck. Warm breath ghosted over her cheek. Unoccupied hand sneaked under the robe, lapels so far apart he barely had to nudge the fabric away.

So that what he was looking at; ogling her tits,  while she was battling between keeping his psyche while and her own needs in check.

She lost it when he started worrying his lower lip, sucking it gently between his teeth.

Both palms splayed on each side of his head she forced him to close the distance. Ten years and all that teasing, the dilemma over his well-being and hers… Even a saint wouldn't be able to resist that sinful mouth just mere millimeters away. So she licked in between the seam of his lips, moaning with exquisite pleasure of finally fulfilling desire she was coveting since she first saw him on an unnamed road somewhere in the mountains.  

Thin robe she had on practically slipped open itself, the tie already loosened enough for Bane to move his hands to her hips, hauling her to his lap with a laugh.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked between kisses, in precious few seconds when Helena had to move back a bit to bunch up his shirt.

“Don't you fucking mock me,“ she growled.

Laughing again, he cradled her close, hiding her head in the nook between his neck and shoulder.

“I gather you're not opposed to benefiting from our friendship this way?”

Delivery of his taunt came out breathless, because Helena was in the middle of nipping and licking her way up the side of his neck. She stopped by his ear, mauled and cut, but still sensitive from years of being safely tucked away behind straps of mask.

“I will deal with your later,” she warned. “I will teach you to be considerate, and respectful, and mindful of people that want to take good care of you.”

“Why later?”

She straightened,  looking down at him, beautiful in her seriousness, smoldering need reddening her cheeks and glinting with heat in her eyes.

“Now I want to sample if those benefits of yours are worth the hassle.”

Bane grinned, the challenge as welcome as relief it promised. He pressed her insistently back to his hips, letting her know that the benefit was quite ready, and indeed ripe for the taking.

Someone knocked on the door.

Their eyes met in mutual agreement. Fuck whoever was outside. Hide.

Bane stood up, keeping Helena nestled in front of him. Two steps towards the bedroom and he grunted, spine complaining over unexpected weight it had to carry. He masked it with a kiss, and rested for a second, pressing Helena to the corridor wall. That was a first.

Knocks echoed again, insistent.

Before he could start towards the bed, their hideout, someone shouted through the door.

Helena shifted, at once alert.

“I think it's Grace.“

“I think I don't give a flying fuck,” he retorted, distracting her with another kiss. He ended up distracting himself as well.

“Well, well, well,” came from behind them. “The ever elusive doctor Dorrance. You both make yourself decent and meet me in the living room. I'll make tea.”

“Hi Grace,” Helena waved meekly one hand that was gripping Banes shoulder. To him she whispered “Better listen, she's scarier than you when she has to wait.”

The mood was killed anyway. Might as well try and behave like a civilized being towards the intruder, Bane thought with a sigh.

He had some questions he wanted answered, and knew Helena wouldn't squeal on topics he was the most interested in.

“All in good time,” he mumbled to the scribe, letting her go gently at the entrance to her room.

Yes, she won't dare escaping him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I am, still unsure how Bane should be called now...


End file.
